Distressed
by RedJulius
Summary: World War 2 has ended and the Allies are in defeat. As a reward for being such a great Kommandant, Amon's higher commanders are letting him go back to Vienna and take a job as a teacher at a nearby Napola. However, his return to Austria and more settled life won't be the only new change. He is taking his mysterious, quiet, and dark new wife with him. Rated T for now...
1. Prologue

**Readers: I'm not quite sure where I'm going with this story except for what I've loosely described in the intro. Don't judge it by its prologue. This story is going to get lighter and more "romantic" so hang in there and enjoy!**

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It happened just once. I don't know if he remembers, but I do. How he came down to my cellar that night, the most intoxicated I'd ever seen him before. He was even more drunk than the time when he was in my cellar telling me how "I really was a good cook and a well-trained servant" and how he'd give me a recommendation after the war.

No, the night this…_thing_…in my stomach happened was different. There was a more sinister air about him, more lascivious. I tried to talk him out of it; how it went against his code of ethics, how I was a lowly Jewess—how it would be the same as doing it with a rat. But his mistress had been away for a month and he knew we'd be alone that night._ Just this once, Helen. No one will ever know. _

Any beating would've been better than what happened, but it is too late now.

I don't know what he is going to do with me when it becomes visible. I assume he will kill me. The guards have been glaring; they all have figured it out that I'm pregnant and have their theories. Probably they are wondering why the Kommandant still keeps me, but I know one of them will kill me if he gets the chance.

I think tonight I will tell the Kommandant of my state just to end it now. I would rather he kill me than one of those young fools who holds no rank at all. It's like my father always said: "If you're going to die, then let it be your own choice."

Well Papa, choosing my killer is about as much choice as I will get once the truth is visible. So let us leave this sick world now before I become attached to this other life and regret having to die even more.


	2. Chapter 1

**Thank you all so much for reviews! Much appreciated. I will try to update as soon as possible. **

**Again, hang in there because I haven't gotten to the phase of the story described in my description but with time comes good things! ;-) Anyway, enjoy!**

**Ruth is the Kommandant's _proper_ mistress, from the book and movie.**

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It was night out and I waited until the Kommandant was settled into his armchair in his study reading a book. Now was better than ever so I walked in and addressed him.

"Herr Kommandant, I must speak to you."

"Speaking before being spoken to, Helen?"

I shifted my eyes from his gaze as he stared at me, distracted from his reading. I'll admit that I was surprised to see him reading as learning doesn't strike me as his forte.

"Well, by all means, speak to me then Helen," he said, rather apathetically. He caught me off guard with his eyes and stared at me directly into mine. The look sent shivers down my spine and suddenly I felt very anxious. Anxious to get out of the room even though I'd been the one who started it.

"C'mon, we haven't got all night," the Kommandant huffed.

I felt like a coward. The will to live kicked in strong at that moment and I just couldn't muster the courage to say what I came to say. It came out slurred instead of strong.

"Come again. I didn't understand you…" His agreeableness was really worrying me. Who knew what he was thinking but at that moment I could read him as well as I could read a book written in Portuguese!

I said it slower, this time more ready. "Herr Kommandant, I am… I'm… p-pregnant."

The book, which before he still had in his hands, bookmarked with his index finger now fell onto the desk. Then silence and a cold stare.

Was he going to shoot me right there? Was he going to beat me first? Would he throw me off of the balcony to a horrible, long fall?

All of the horrible thoughts of how'd he kill me going through my head prevented me from noticing the Kommandant's actions. It wasn't until I felt his cold hand grabbing my arm that I even noticed he'd gotten up. There were no words. Just force, and him pulling me up the stairs to his room (much to my dismay).

Once inside his room, he shoved me onto his bed and locked the door. Oh no! No, no, no, no, no! Not again! I was wrong though luckily. The look he shot me when he saw me panicking confirmed for me that he wasn't going to hurt me again. In fact, when I thought of it, he probably didn't even realize yet that I was pregnant with _his_ child, he'd been so drunk when it happened.

He pulled over a chair in his room and sat down in it 2 feet across from me. I was still shaking and nervous. What did he want from me if it wasn't death or sex? Nothing could've prepared me for what happened over the next few minutes.

"Helen, whose is it," he commanded more than asked. I think he suspected but didn't want to admit it. Probably he was hoping I'd say Lisiek. Instead I didn't answer him at all.

"Answer me!"

"I don't know, Herr Kommandant," I whimpered. A weak try…

"Yeah, and I don't know who the Fuhrer is! Tell me, Helen," he whispered. It was scary how something so quiet held so much more ferocity than a shout.

"I don't see how it matters who the father is if you're just going to kill me anyway. I know what you do with the pregnant women. I've seen it." I expected him to beat me for such sudden insolence but things proved to be going contrary to normality that night as he just ignored my statement all together.

Finally his silence broke me. "You are the father, Herr Kommandant."

"Was that so hard Helen?_ The truth is always the right answer_. I'm not going to kill you Helen since_ it's_ mine, and I don't want to know how it, this happened, but you're going to have to stay inside from now on. When the baby is born, _I'll take care of it_."

He must have detected the protective look in my eye when he said he'd "take care of it".

"No, Helen. I mean when it's born I'll have it smuggled to some Poles… You can't talk to anyone or be seen by anyone, you understand? All the constant visitors here know you're…Hebrew…so I'll get a new maid to serve the parties but you'll still need to clean and tidy the villa. Once Ruth figures out you're with child I'll tell her it is Lisiek's. She's different. She won't tell."

I was overwhelmed with what he'd just decided. All so quickly and instinctually. I couldn't believe he was going to let me live, and have the child no less. Was this the same man who kills random prisoners with a sniper rifle from his balcony? I sat there with my eyes wide open and my brain in full throttle. What should I say?

"_Thank you_, Herr Kommandant," I said, playing at sounding grateful. It felt strange to thank the Kommandant. He didn't deserve my thanks. He didn't deserve anything good or kind. He didn't deserve the child in my womb. I hated him, but strangely I felt that I didn't at the same moment. It was making me upset to think about it.

It was like he read my thoughts.

"Helen, you don't need to thank me. I have done enough wrong to you," he deliberately motioned to my stomach with his eyes, "and this is the least I can do in return but you do need to remember what I have told to you. If you ever forget and disobey, it could be fatal for you or me or both of us.

"I expect a glass of cognac when I return to my study and you are dismissed for the night after that."

With that, the Kommandant got up and left the room. I fled as well as soon as his boot steps were out of ear shot. I rushed him his glass of cognac and ended up in my cellar bed/bathroom moments later.

As I lay down onto my cot and awaited slumber, it did not come. Instead though, tears rushed from my eyes and soaked my pillow. I cried because I was happy I was still alive, because this child in me would live, because I was going to make it. I cried for my sisters and brothers who weren't making it, for the women whose children were killed, for the depravity of my situation.

Finally, sleep did come and wiped away all of the problems.


	3. Chapter 2

**To those of you brave people who are reading my story, thank you very much! This is my first "worthy" fanfiction, in my opinion and please, all of you bear with me. I've been very busy with finals and such but here is your new chapter. Maybe tell me what you think in the reviews section...? I love all constructive criticism and complements! **

**You'll notice, this chapter is written entirely from Amon's point of view and does have flashbacks so pay attention to little dot markers; they are your "this is a flashback" warnings.**

**I promise, I am getting to Vienna, eventually... But there's got to be some background! :-) Love, Red**

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**Berlin, Germany**

**September, 1945**

"Well if it isn't Amon Goeth? What brings you to Berlin when you've got that massive monstrosity over in Plazsow?"

"Truth be told, Leif, I don't know. I got this summons from…y'know…the guy who used to be…Eichmann! That's who. Obersturmbannführer Eichmann said my presence was necessary here in the capital to discuss a very important matter now that the war is coming closer to the end."

My friend, Leif Schiller and I went back some twelve or so years. We'd enlisted in the Austrian SS around the same time and met in basic training. I liked his sense of humor and he liked my coolness and calculation. When Hitler annexed Austria a couple years ago, Leif had been selected to work for some high up German SS guy.

Leif went to Berlin with his boss and it's been years since I last saw him.

"Well, that's great. It's pretty awesome we're winning the war isn't it! It'll mean the best reich of all for the world. The Third Reich is the true force of perfection and purity for a new world," Leif said.

I wasn't really interested in talking about the glory of our Reich right at that moment as I'd just arrived in this fancy hotel and happened upon an old friend in the lobby. I rather wanted to go tour Berlin.

Ever since we'd invaded Russia right after the end of their brutal winter of 1943, (we refused to make the same mistake Napoleon had by discrediting their weather) we'd been on a roll. Stalingrad was ours and the Americans were sitting on their neutral horse over in the West. Unless we or our Japanese allies decided to do something, they'd leave our European war alone.

Anyway, I'd snoozed most of the trip to Berlin and was now very interested in visiting all of its past and modern glories.

"Hello, Amon…You there," Leif asked.

"Oh sorry! I was thinking about how much I'd like to go tour Berlin. See the sights, hear the music, enjoy the food…" I said.

"Enjoy the women," Leif smirked. "Don't think I forgot what a womanizer my handsome, young friend used to be, probably still is."

All I could do was chuckle a bit half-heartedly. I didn't think much had changed but just one comment made it all so clear everything had….

**…..**

Screaming. I woke to hear a woman's screams. It was Helen of course. I'd required Ruth to stick around the villa the entire month in anticipation of when this morning, evening, night would come. I went to rouse my mistress but she was already gone.

I too got up, in the middle of the dark night/early morning and put on some pants and a shirt. Not my uniform of course, which would be too conspicuous but one of the only civilian suits I brought with me to the camp. Rather, one Schindler had made and brought for me.

Ruth and I would be taking the new born infant to a Polish couple that already had many children and where the wife was pregnant. Another child, they promised us, would go unnoticed by the neighbors.

I'd told the couple a bogus story: Ruth was my sister and she'd been impregnated by a German soldier who died before they could marry. Our family, a very conservative Catholic bunch wouldn't allow her to come home until she had the baby and gave it away.

The peasants, who seemed to believe the story but were a little doubtful were fully convinced of the truth when I happened to have two diamonds to pay them as well.

The screaming intensified and I started to feel a bit queasy. There was an emotion I couldn't process going through me at that moment that I'd never felt before, or at least, hadn't felt in a long time. I went into my bathroom and was sick all over the toilet.

Hearing Helen in pain was tearing me apart. I'd hurt her in the past but she'd never flinched, never blinked, never made a sound or even questioned after the first time I'd hit her. _Knowing that she could hurt, that she had hurt, she was hurting…_

I looked at myself in the mirror. Despite the cool, fall air, my forehead had beads of sweat rolling down it. There was vomit on the corner of my mouth. The air smelt foul and stale. I washed my face quickly and tried to compose myself.

The screaming had stopped and it was silent. I went downstairs with Ruth's coat in hand. I didn't dare descend into the cellar where both of _my_, the women, were.

I called down the stairs, trying to sound apathetic. "Is she dead? Why's it so quiet?"

Silence. No crying, no nothing. Stubbornly I still refused to go into the basement. I didn't want to face them,_ her_. Helen.

Then whispers, quiet, urgent whispers. Suddenly, groans. Then wailing and Ruth's triumphant voice praising the hell out of Helen. I could hear the baby. Ruth called up, "The peasants will be receiving a little girl."

A girl. A girl I would never know. What would this child's life be like? Her mother was abandoning her—granted, her mother had no choice, really—before she was even an hour old. Her father…let's not even go there. Would anyone ever know, or notice the little girl's dark hair or sad, dark eyes and wonder, "_Who is she anyway?_" Would they realize she was half-Jew and shun her, abuse her, _kill_ her? What future did this poor child have with her superstitious, doubtful Polish adoptive parents?

He wanted to pray for her. The little girl, but he didn't know what to say so he didn't pray at all. He just waited for Ruth to come up the stairs so they could take the baby and leave.

So he could take this memory and put it away in the "deleted files" drawer of his mind.

**…...**

"And that was the Berlin Cathedral! It sure is magnificent, isn't it? I can't tell you how many times I've gone and spent the afternoon sitting on a bench eating a wurst sandwich, looking at all the different architectural features of this building. I mean, those old world architects sure knew their stuff. Amon, are you even listening anymore? I thought you wanted a tour and now you're spacing off!

"Say, are you hungry? I know a great place; it's low key but it's good. Driver, take us to the Club Parisiene. Amon, talk to me friend."

"I've forgotten how much you can talk. Or is it just that you are still so happy about life," I said, rather pessimistically. Leif is one of those men you can insult or degrade a hundred times a day but he'll just be as happy as ever. A truly insane man.

"Ah, Amon. Don't be so grumpy. I promise a good meal will hearten you right up. Maybe we can even get invited to a party. The girls love a man in uniform. I've gotten invited to so many parties," Leif continued. I wondered how he was still so unscathed by the war and by the camps. I've been terribly depressed.

About the murders, the looks in the eyes of my guards, the way Helen looks at me. Especially now. Ugh! I am hundreds of miles away from her but still she pervades my thoughts every couple minutes. She's like a drug. I can't go without thinking about her for long enough to even think about the old days, before all of this _sh_...

Before I know it, we're at the club. I pay the cabby and Leif proudly escorts his esteemed officer friend from the east into the larger-than-it-looks-on-the-outside-building. Leif is right about one thing so far; this place looks and smells great. We go sit down at booth in the corner next to a group of lower officers and their girlfriends.

A pretty blonde sings on the stage and makes eyes at the piano player. I can guess they're lovers just from her one gesture. The song is about doomed love. I can't help but let a small chuckle escape when she's done singing. Again, the thought of a certain curly, black haired woman steeps into my mind. I push the thought away with an order of Grand Mariner and some cordon bleu. Tonight will be good.

**…...**

The night was going horrendously for me. Helen had had the baby about a month before. As if nothing had even happened, she was back on her feet serving me and my guests. Everyone was surprised to see her back. I guess they'd all thought I'd lost control one night and beat her to death. They knew how I treated her before. It would've been impossible to hide the black bruises on her pale cheeks, the slight limp from when I'd once pushed her down the stairs and her leg had twisted.

It was all I could do to keep from staring at her every moment. Her every movement. I wanted her so badly, and not even in a forceful or sexual way. I just wanted to hold her in my arms and apologize and tell her it would be all right. That we could just pretend none of "this" was happening or had happened.

I couldn't say when the feelings had steeped in. I'd always been attracted to her, back to when I first picked her out from those other potential maids. She was the only one who didn't raise her hand to get the job; a smart woman. _Didn't work out for you in the end though, did it, Helen?_

It was so hard, for so long, keeping away from her. I knew it was wrong and that she was gross. I hate the Jews, for God's sake! But there was something about her that kept me from loathing her like all the others. I could never kill her, that's for sure. It's the most ironic thing.

I wish she could just realize that I only hit her because I love her. God, she's all I can think about anymore. It hurts so much and it's becoming a problem, but there's no one I can tell. Not even Oskar. All I can do masquerade.

"Amon, what's troubling you my friend," said Oskar, rousing me from the dark. "I heard about what happened with Ruth. I'm sorry that happened."

"I don't want to talk about it, Oskar. Can't you just leave me alone," I replied, too quickly.

"Oh, it's worse than I thought. Come, let's go talk outside."

Ruth had dumped me some days after Helen had _our_… I keep acknowledging it. I've got to stop that. The baby, and Ruth and I were in an argument. I got mad and I hit her pretty hard. It wasn't like with Helen though, because I need to show how I feel. No, with Ruth it was because I was just so angry. She didn't understand that I would've hit a man or a woman in that situation.

I respected her enough to let her go. Ruth is a good woman and doesn't deserve the likes of me. Everyone close to me seems to think it is Ruth that has me upset. Let them think so, but it might be hard bs-ing my way through this discussion with Oskar.

**…...**

I woke up early with a young woman in the bed next to me. Her makeup was smeared and gave her the look of a dead person with their eyes all swollen. I would know. I was embarrassed with myself for the actions I'd taken last night; Leif and I picked up dance partners at the club and they'd ended up inviting us to party. At the party, some officer hunting young girls kept throwing themselves to me and Leif. Whereas Leif was all over it, (how I might've acted five, even three years ago), I was rather bored and disgusted. When Leif finally wanted to leave, he brought two flimsy young girls with him and stated clearly enough, "One for you, one for me."

I should've told him to leave these _really_ young _girls_ alone, or tell them to go home, or something but for some dumb reason I felt I needed to show I hadn't changed to my old comrade. That's how this rather-ugly-in-the-daylight girl found her way into my hotel room.

I ordered her some breakfast and watched her clean herself, dress herself, and even eat. She must've thought I was being seductive but in reality I didn't want this little floozy stealing anything of mine or figuring out my name. Lord knows what she could do to me.

She realized how wrong she was in my feelings toward her after she finished eating though. I said it bluntly, "I called you a cab and it's here by now. Don't ever contact me, come here again or talk to me if you see me on the street in the next few days. Last night meant nothing, kid."

The shock on her turned to anger after she was able to grasp what I'd just told her. Dumb too, apparently. She shouted some obscenities at me, and again, whereas a few years ago I would've just hit her and kicked her out, instead I sat down and let her say she wanted to.

When she was finally done I went into my wallet and pulled out a few zlotys and gave them to her. She seemed a bit satisfied by this gesture but still spit in my face as I walked her out of the door.

Then I ordered a breakfast for myself and readied myself for my appointment with Eichmann later that day. Leif and I had planned on spending the morning together watching a picture show so I went and retrieved him.

The day went by quickly and it was already time for my appointment. What could be so important that Eichmann had to summon me almost 400 miles away from my work to tell me?


	4. Chapter 3

**For the readers: Vienna is literally right around the corner. It'll be there within the next two chapters. Thank you for waiting so patiently for the update. There might be a few grammatical errors because I was in a bit of a rush publishing. Sorry about that but hang in there with me! **

**Just a little head's up because I jump to flashbacks quite a bit, Helen and Amon's daughter was born in early 1943, around March. Also, there will be some Helen POV coming up soon.  
**

**Enjoy! Love, Red ;-}  
**

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**Plaszow Concentration Camp, Poland**

**October 1945**

The only problem is Helen. I can't leave her here. But, I can't logically take her with me either. Now that the war is coming to a close, all of the Jews will be found and killed. I refuse to smuggle her to America. No, she's mine. She can't go away. Especially if I can't.

But what am I going to do now that Eichmann has ordered me to work at some Napola? How did I even let myself get talked into that anyway?

**…...**

The hour for my appointment had come. I showed up at the appointed time at the Berlin SS Headquarters. The building was enormous, and cast of concrete. The Nazi party flag and the runes flag hung side by side all over. Enlisted guards stood all over keeping post. Inside was just as impressive. Marble pillars, a grand staircase center, a marble bust of the Fuher all adorned the front hall.

After about half an hour of waiting in the front hall and watching all of the hustle and bustle going on, a young officer finally came and escorted me to Eichmann's quarters. There I must've waited another fifteen minutes before Eichmann himself came and opened the doors to his office for me.

I'll admit, he was no looker and only of average height. One never would've guessed that this unintimidating looking man was one of the most ruthless designers of the Final Solution in the Fatherland. His eyes were the most chilling feature of his—they were gray and cold, as if the warmth was absent behind them.

He didn't return my handshake but instead had me sit down on a chair in front of his desk.

"Well, Goeth, I've heard many things about you… Not all good. What do you think of that," Eichmann started us off with.

"Obersturmbannführer, I can assure I am a good officer and have I not done an excellent job of running Plaszow? Whatever rumors you have heard are just that, rumors, Sir," I said immediately defensive. A bad move, obviously. Eichmann already knew almost everything about me. I don't why I didn't think of that then.

"Hauptsturmführer, I would hardly say you've done an excellent job. You think we don't know about the parties with Polish whores, strictly against protocol! However, most importantly, the embezzlement."

I was dumbstruck. He did know. Luckily though, it was not about a certain child he knew about. That would've put straight to the execution wall. Right now, I might still get away with a sentence to serve in the Wehrmacht after being stripped of my rank. Honestly, death sounded better than serving in the army any day.

Then much to my surprise, Eichmann started laughing. It was very scary actually. Not just the sound of it, but what it meant for me.

"Amon, Amon! I got you good didn't I? C'mon, admit it. That was funny! The look on your face just now. I'm not normally into comedy but that was worth it."

I was even more lost now. "I'm sorry, but I am sure I don't know what you mean, Sir," I said.

It took Eichmann a few moments to sober up. Finally he was ready to speak again, though. "Hauptsturmführer, I know you would never engage in such behaviors. You're record is as clean as…mine! No, no, no. I called you here to make you an offer you can't refuse. Do you want to hear about it? Good. Here it is:

"The war is going to be over soon. Very soon. We all know it is us who will win. Anyway, we need more men like you to teach at the Napolas. Men who have spent the tine in service and know what it is like to work with them, the Jews and who knows how to handle himself around them. When Goering debriefed me about this assignment and the qualifications these new teachers would need, you were one of the best files out there for the job. How's it sound?"

I still had no clue what he wanted. I was just supposed to give up Plaszow, and all that power to teach some future officer brats? I just had to ask, "Sir, please can you clarify what exactly you want me to do?"

Eichmann seemed happy enough to summarize, "We need teachers at the Napolas to be instructors in camp management and facilitation. You are a perfect candidate because you've run Plaszow beautifully and know how to work with those rats, the Jews."

"Sir, with all due respect, I will have to turn you down on this offer. I am very satisfied working as the Captain of Plaszow. I don't think this job would have anything to offer me I am interested in. I'd have to move, lose all of my friends in Poland, leave _Hel_…my wife, behind," I said. Whoa! That was a close one but now he thought I had a wife!

"Well, I didn't know you had a wife but she would certainly be allowed to move to Vienna with you. I am sorry that you'd leave Plaszow and your friends behind but I would make sure the man of your choice would be reinstated as the manager of Plaszow," Eichmann persuaded.

"It's in Vienna? I'm from Vienna originally. I haven't been home for ten or so years," I mentioned.

"See, it's a great deal, huh? We'd pay for a house for you to live in, a maid, and of course you'd receive a large salary as a teacher at a Deutschland prestigious school. This offer will never come up again. You refuse it now, I will never ask you again. In fact, it might make you might be so sad later you refused that you'll be forced to resign and join the Wehrmacht. Doesn't that sound horrible?" He purposely said the last few sentences threateningly.

I might've not caught his meaning with the job offer before but there was no way I could refuse now. I had to take him up on the offer, my status in the SS depended on it!

"Well, Sir, you were right," I said, "I can't refuse your offer. I would love to take this job. Please tell me the rest of the details."

**…...**

Now I remember. I did mention I have a wife though. How am I going to fix that problem? I guess I could marry some German girl quick. Or…

No, not possible. Someone would figure it out. But I could always have fake papers made for her. The idea is nuts. But if I married her, I could take her with me and she'd be saved. Maybe I'll ask Oscar.

I called Oscar and asked him to come stop by for lunch. He would know what to do. He is different too. I've seen him with the Jews. He likes _them_, wants to help _them_. I don't understand it, but what's more strange is that lately I haven't minded _them_ so much either.

It's like with time, my heart is beginning to thaw. I am less likely to kill or find reasons to hurt. I know my guards sense something is up. Perhaps it's good I am leaving after all. Plaszow is changing me too much and people are starting to notice.

After a while, Oscar arrives and we eat venison wurst sausage sandwiches prepared by my Helen; delicious! Then we retire to my study so I can close the door.

"Now, Amon, my friend. What is it that ails you? You look horrible," Oscar jests. How often have our conversations begun like this?

"I need to get married. I thought you could give me some advice," I rapidly said. It didn't come out how I wanted it. Too vague.

"You're asking me for marriage advice? You need to get married? This is worse than usual. Here, have some cognac."

Oscar walks over to my study's bar stand and prepares me a shot and himself one too. He comes back over and we say a cheers.

"Now," he begins, "let the alcohol loosen your tongue. Tell me your troubles."

Oscar is good about listening to people. Maybe that's part of why I like him so much. Believe it or not, I've been off the sauce for a while. Every time I drink it, I get to feeling so dreadful. It was often before that I would beat Helen more frequently when drinking. I haven't hit her but once since the baby, and that was over two years ago.

It felt so wrong that time so I just quit. I have never felt better about my emotions since, regardless, they're still crazy. One could attest to that just looking at me right now.

Anyway, the alcohol did its work in me quickly because soon I was talking.

I told Oscar everything. About my semi-optional choice to go to Vienna to teach, my mistake bedding that Berlin floozy, and most importantly, my conflicting choice of marrying Helen.

Oscar had never looked so broken before this moment. Always he looks composed, sheek and polished, the man I've always wanted to be… But right now was the first time I'd seen this look on his face. It wasn't' disapproval or judgment. Instead it was actual dejection.

Finally he spoke to me, very carefully as if I wouldn't be able to process his words if spoken at a normal pace, "Marry Helen. I will help you obtain papers for her and some hair dye. This will not be easy or fast but I help you the best I can. I know you understand the gravity of this situation we are entering into, so I will not reprimand you but I strongly encourage you to think this decision through. Tell me again tomorrow if you still want to do this and I'll go ahead and fulfill my end. Amon, you are madder than I thought."

I thanked him profusely and we changed the subject to lift our spirits a bit. I don't know what made him decide to help me but I will be eternally grateful to this strange friend of mine.

Boy was Eichmann wrong. I am hardly a clean slate.


End file.
